Please note: we have been online over ten years, and we want The Trek BBS to continue as a free site. But if you block our ads we are at risk.Please consider unblocking ads for this site - every ad you view counts and helps us pay for the bandwidth that you are using. Thank you for your understanding.

Welcome! The Trek BBS is the number one place to chat about Star Trek with like-minded fans. Please login to see our full range of forums as well as the ability to send and receive private messages, track your favourite topics and of course join in the discussions.

If you are a new visitor, join us for free. If you are an existing member please login below. Note: for members who joined under our old messageboard system, please login with your display name not your login name.

As she finished the recording of Kalara’s betrayal one last time, Prin resisted the urge to slam her fist into the screen. It would make her feel better, but at this point that was all it would do. It certainly wouldn’t provide her with the answers she was looking for.

The commanding tones of General K’mpak filtered out through the static.

"You whine like a Ferengi, kapamai. I am in command of this fleet. I will decide what targets to attack.”

Massaging the back of her neck, she leant back in Ba’el’s chair, her eyes glued to the screen. By this point she could almost repeat K’mpak’s lines word for word, like a favourite holo serial. If only it was that simple. If only I could say “Computer, end program” and watch all of this dissolve away.

“Do not try my patience, kapami. We will be at your location in seven hours.”

Kalara hesitated slightly at K’mpak’s words, as if she were about to make some other demand. Prin mouthed the next words along with her. “Then I wish you success. Qapl’a, General.”

The screen in the recording went black, leaving Kalara’s face lit only by the dim lighting of Doctor Malok’s office. Prin watched once again as Kalara snarled, ripping the communication’s interface from the computer and throwing it to the floor. As she stamped down on it, the static that had been interfering with the recording swelled up one final time, washing the images away in a wave of black and white lines.

Prin let her head fall back against the chair, letting out a heavy sigh. Even after this umpteenth – a word her human captain on the Invincible had loved to use - run-through, she was no closer to figuring out what was bothering her. And yet something was. Something about the whole situation was very, very wrong.

The door chimed. Finally. Shutting down the screen, she sighed, rubbed at her eyes, and spoke to the door. “Come in.”

With a whoosh of compressed air, it slid open. A ghost stood on the other side.

Or as close as. Commander Ianto stepped through the door, standing at military attention. He wore what appeared to be a Starfleet uniform, though not one she recognised. The cut was softer for one and the colour scheme was different. Though the trousers and most of the jacket were black, the area around the shoulders was grey, with a red shirt showing beneath the collar.

He walked over to the seat opposite her and sat down. Up close, Prin noted the small metal box affixed to the upper arm of his uniform for the first time. She couldn’t resist asking about it. “How is the emitter holding up?”

She had been intrigued to hear about Ianto’s work with the old technology. One of her guilty pleasures during the long years of the Resistance had been studying pre-Occupation Federation tech. The holographic emitter had never appeared in any of the reports she had read, though the Voyager Doctor had.

He had done an amazing job of rebuilding it. The emitter worked like a charm. If she hadn’t known better she would have sworn he was there in flesh and blood. Or in cybernetic wiring and bioplast sheeting, anyway.

She frowned, taken aback by the cold, robotic tension in his voice. “I’m… glad to hear that, Mr Ianto.”

He cocked his head for a moment, and a hint of emotion leaked into his expression, a loosening of the tension around the mouth and a softening of the eyes.

“Apologies, commander. The connection between my holographic matrix and my primary memory banks remains a little… glitchy. My emotion sub-routines are especially susceptible. They often switch off without me realising.”

Thank the Prophets. She had been dreading this meeting for the last half hour. His tone of voice just seemed to have confirmed her fears. Feeling relieved, she nodded. “That must be… Irritating.”

“Only when the sub-routines are on.” He stared at her for a moment, then smiled gently. “That was a joke, commander.”

She shook her head, smiling back. “It’s been a long day.”

“So I have heard.”

There was the slightest hint of censure in his voice. “You are aware of what happened with Lieutenant-Commander Kalara, then.”

“I know that she has been accused of treason and imprisoned in the brig, yes.”

“I understand that the Lieutenant-Commander and you were close.”

“We still are.”

He resents what I’ve done. “And what do you think of the charges?”

“As a logical android and loyal member of Starfleet? Or as her friend?”

Prin thought about it for a moment. This is what you called him here for. “Both.”

“I think my father would have put it best. Bullshit.”

Prin laughed, a short back that she quickly controlled. The word had been so unexpected, and delivered with such a dead-pan expression, she had been taken by surprise. Recovering, she forced a more serious expression on her face.

“And as a logical android and loyal member of Starfleet?”

“That was it. I would have been much more eloquent as Kalara’s friend.”

This time, Prin didn’t laugh. “You really believe she is innocent?” He nodded. “And you would feel the same without your emotional subroutines?”

“Commander. You didn’t call me here because of my lack of emotions. If you had wanted an emotionless, logical response, you would have asked the computer to run a projection. You called me here because you wanted to hear the opinion of someone who considers Lieutenant-Commander Kalara a friend.”

Prin nodded carefully. “You seem very sure of yourself.”

“Am I wrong?”

Instead of answering him, Prin stood, walking around Ba’el’s desk to the window. She stared out at the stars. He wasn’t wrong. After Ba’el had returned to his quarters, she had stayed behind to study the recording. The Klingon’s words haunted her. I wasn’t sure whether you would believe me.

When she had joined Starfleet, she had taken an oath to protect and uphold the ideals of the Alliance of Federated Worlds. Though many former rebels privately scoffed at the Federation charter, calling it idealistic mumbo jumbo, Prin didn’t count herself amongst their number. She had fought for more than just freedom from the Dominion – she had fought for those very ideals. Once she joined Starfleet, she took those oaths very seriously.

Including the one that promises Federation citizens a fair trial. As much as she hated to admit it, Kalara might not receive that in the current climate. Ba’el himself was far from clear headed when it came to the Klingon lieutenant. And if she was telling the truth…

Making up her mind, she turned back to Ianto.

“You’re not wrong. I did want your opinion, as Kalara’s friend. In fact, I’ve been sat here for the past hour struggling with this whole situation. Something about it has me on edge and I can’t put my finger on what.” She walked back over to the desk. “I would like to show you something.”

Spinning her screen around, she activated the recording again. She had no need to watch the screen herself. Not anymore. Instead, she studied Ianto. The former android turned hologram never blinked nor widened his eyes as he watched his friend betrayed the Federation. No sign of his thoughts or emotions broke through that calm, collected exterior. Once the video had finished, he looked up at her.

“I see your problem.”

She sighed, dropping back into the chair. She had been hoping for something more… More positive. “I have studied it from every angle, trying to find something that might indicate it is a forgery, but--”

“You won’t. The video is most definitely real. According to my internal processing systems, I would say to within 99.91456 percent.”

“Then you believe she is guilty?” Prin asked, hoping against hope that he would say no.

“I never said that, commander. The video is real. Whether that is really Commander Kalara…”

She frowned. “We’ve run every possible test, voice recognition, pattern confirmation and – By the Prophets!”

Instead of responding, Ianto had reached up and tapped his holo emitter. As she talked, he shifted - there was no other word for it. One moment he was sat there and the next the Empress of the Klingon Empire was in his place.

She looked as regal and ferocious in person as she did in the holorecordings. Body armour shaped her ample curves. Knives hung from her belt, and a pistol sat in her palm. She stared at Prin and growled, showing feral pointed teeth. Those clear blue eyes burned with hatred.

Despite herself, Prin felt a surge of adrenaline and her fingers twitched towards her phaser. The moment passed, though, and then Ianto was back in the chair.

“Appearances can be deceiving,” he said with a small smile.

“A hologram?”

“Or a holographic emitter designed to overlay the real person. Or genetic resequencing. Or any number of other ways someone could have replaced their own image with that of Kalara.”

“But why?”

“Ease of access? To create a fissure between the Klingons and the rest of the Federation? Any number of reasons.” When he saw her expression, he sighed. “I understand that all of this seems far fetched. Like clutching at straws, in fact. What you need to understand is that all you and Captain Sarine have to base your findings on is the evidence of your own eyes and the little experience you have had with Kalara. All bad in Captain Sarine’s case.”

Prin couldn’t argue with that. “I have something more,” he went on. “Years of experience working side by side with Commander Kalara. And those years of experience tell me that she would not have done this.”

“You have a great deal of respect for her, don’t you?”

Ianto nodded. “As much as you seem to have for Captain Sarine.”

She didn’t respond immediately, weighing what she was about to say. Ba’el would not be pleased with the decision she had made. But he had left her in command. As far as she was concerned, that gave her a certain amount of leeway. She nodded, her mind made up.

“I know that you have yet to be formally reactivated, Mr Ianto, but if you’re interested I have an assignment for you.”

“An assignment?”

“I want you to run a counter investigation into these accusations. Go back over everything, check the recording, interrogate anyone who might have some kind of information that could clear Kalara. You find something to clear her name, I swear I will take it to Captain Sarine myself.”

Ianto took a moment before responding. “I feel I should point out that I am far from an unbiased party.”

“From everything I have read about you, I believe you will carry out this assignment to the best of your ability, friendship or no friendship. However, even if your investigation were slanted, maybe it will help counterbalance the other, official investigation.” One which I am afraid is going to turn into a witch hunt.

Ianto took a moment before responding. Just as he opened his mouth to respond, though, the comm line chirped. Prin frowned at the interruption, tapping her chest.

Prin glanced at Ianto. His eyes had grow distant the moment the comm line activated. His pupils flickered for a moment, and then he focused on her again.

“She’s right, commander. There’s something wrong with the station.”

Before he had finished speaking, Prin was up and out of the ready room.

An ensign waiting outside the door handed her a headset, which she quickly eased over her forehead. Dropping the viewfinder over her eye and activating the external sensors, she called out for Barani – just standing up from the conn – to report.

“We started to get some strange reading about five minutes ago, commander, centred on what appears to be the station’s central nervous system. I ordered a full sensor sweep – non-invasive of course –,“ she added when she saw the look of disapproval on Prin’s face, “and then a few seconds ago everything went crazy.”

Prin saw what she meant. Ripples of matter cascaded down the station’s central stalk, twitching the tendrils that sprouted every few kilometres. The whole structure appeared to writhe like an animal in pain. Waves of colour erupted along different tendrils, spread for a few seconds and then faded, only to be replaced by others moments later. For anyone onboard, it must seem like living through an earthquake.

“My God...” someone breathed from one of the science stations nearby.

“Something is breaking away from the station, commander.”

She had seen it. A strange craft was trying to tear itself away from one of the station’s upper bays. Literally. The space ship seemed to be caught in some kind of organic tractor beam, which it was struggling to escape from.

Zooming in, Prin saw that the craft had roughly the same shape as a Cardassian watervole – a bulbous head tapering back into a fine tail. From beside her, she heard Ianto compare it to something called a tadpole. She shook her head. Whatever it was, it was putting up quite a fight, dancing and writhing in the entrapment.
Suddenly, with a burst of green energy, the watervole ship broke free. Its tail ignited, sending it diving for interstellar space. Moments later, three more of the craft left the station’s superstructure. These ones were released cleanly, without needing to escape from the dark matter stream. Pursuit vessels, Prin assumed.

As she watched, they began to belch green liquid energy at the escapee, which jinked and rolled in space, narrowly avoiding the weapons’ fire.

“Orders, commander?” Lieutenant L’wynd asked from Tactical.

Prin hesitated. A little voice in her head – which just happened to sound exactly like Ba’el – suggested that she step in between the two opposing forces and be damned the consequences. She shook her head imperceptibly. When she had still been part of the Resistance, she would probably have followed that course. That was then, though. She had changed. A lot.

“Do not interfere,” she ordered. “This is an internal matter, and we don’t have enough information to make a proper judgement. Get me the station, though. I want to know if this is some kind of exercice.”

Her words rang hollow moments later, though, when the escaping watervole ship fired its own volley back at its pursuers. One of the bursts caught the left-most starfighter, engulfing it in crackling energy. In a ball of molten fire, it vanished.

Over at Tactical, L’wynd’s skin hardened in a flicker of crystal and then reverted back again. Have to get her to control that better, Prin thought as the young woman called out. “Commander, we can’t just…”

“Hold your station, lieutenant.”

A few seconds later, the escapee reached some kind of safe distance. With a flash of blue light, it vanished, escaping into warp, or slipstream space. The others followed shortly behind.

“What the hell was that?” Barani asked.

“Where are we on the station?” Prin demanded, trying to regain some kind of control over her shaken bridge crew. “I want to know if they require assistance.”

And whether our people are in any danger.

Barani shook herself, and then nodded, before finishing the walk to Ops. She replaced a Ferengi ensign at the station, dragging the holographic consoles back around her. Prin moved over to the edge of the Pit, leaning on the railing as she looked down at. She sensed Ianto move up to stand beside her. She felt surprisingly grateful for his presence.

After moving around a handful of holographic symbols, Barani frowned. She checked the readouts, two, three times, then shook her head as if she couldn’t make sense of what she saw.

“What is it Lieutenant?”

“I… I can’t hail the station.” She looked up through the interface. “Some kind of communication’s dampener has just gone up.”

“Shields?”

“Up as well.” She shook her head, studying the readouts. “I can’t get through to any member of the diplomatic party. I can’t even pick up their bioreadings.”

Ba’el. Prin fought back a surge of fear, maintaining a firm, even tone of voice. “Keep trying, Lieutenant. Let’s make sure our people are alright.”

As Barani turned back to her station, though, L’wynd called out from Tactical.

“Incoming!”

Prin checked her view finder again in time to see five Behemoths break away from the station and head towards them. She studied the readouts from the sensors, her stomach dropping. When Barani called out from Ops, she already had a good idea of what she was going to say.

“We’re being hailed. The lead Behemoth.” She listened for a moment, then turned to Prin, her eyes wide. “They claim there has been some kind of attack on the station. A… A murder. They’re ordering us to power down our weapons and prepare to be boarded!”

Last episode started slow but built up a good head of steam; now we’re fairly motoring — you’re determined to keep us off balance and doing a good job too. The teaser with Prin doubting the video instinctively and all the time holding a balance between her old habits + gut responses and her new identity + role in the Federation. A nice touch seeing her making XO notes to herself even while Captaining the situation

Finally Ianto comes back into the picture, parachuted in from nowhere almost; with his obviously enhanced enmeshment with the ship will he be able to ferret out more than any other investigator and will he be believed even if he does? That is if he lasts long enough to make a difference; putting him in a Red Shirt is . . . ominous.

CaptainSarine wrote:

Prin didn’t count herself amongst their number. She had fought for more than just freedom from the Dominion – she had fought for those very ideals. Once she joined Starfleet, she took those oaths very seriously.

Including the one that promises Federation citizens a fair trial. As much as she hated to admit it, Kalara might not receive that in the current climate. Ba’el himself was far from clear headed when it came to the Klingon lieutenant.

A chilling reference to Sarine there; he is hardly clear headed about anything right now. At the very moment Prin is thinking of her Captain there may no longer be a Captain Sarine — whether assassinated or assimilated. This is turning out to be a tale of shadows in more ways than one— Kalara and Ianto shadow Sarine and Prin; two Captains and two Execs. The dynamics between the matched pairs are powerful enough but when you add to the mix all the permutations that can be run between the foursome it is a veritable shadow dance.

Oh and then you throw everyone into the build up to a minor war where nothing at all is clear. Now we want to know who was the escapee, who the pursuers, what is happening to Onyx, what is happening to the Away Team and, naturally, none of the questions from the last Chapter and not all of those from the last arc are answered yet. To cap it off — is the Behemoth referring to the attack on Sarine or has something else happened? What could send the station into spasm; Sarine being plugged into the circuits, the Kruin being extinguished or both! Pure evil authorship.

I really like Ianto. Really, really a lot. And I like Prin, too. I'm glad she's listening to her gut here, but trying to stay logical at the same time. I think she'd make an excellent starship captain ... and from the looks of things, she's going to have to be exactly that in a minute here.

I don't know if the murder was Sarine or not, but he's not on board, he's been shot, and all hell just broke loose. Time for Prin to step up. Will she call on Kalara? Remembering the first chapter of this volume, I really can't wait to find out what's about to happen.

Wow, what an impressive, well thought out review. Let me respond to this piece by piece.

Last episode started slow but built up a good head of steam; now we’re fairly motoring — you’re determined to keep us off balance and doing a good job too. The teaser with Prin doubting the video instinctively and all the time holding a balance between her old habits + gut responses and her new identity + role in the Federation. A nice touch seeing her making XO notes to herself even while Captaining the situation

I did want to drop gears slightly through this chapter because of the way the last chapter ended. Like you said, I like keeping you all off balance and guessing. I'm glad that you enjoyed the little insights into Prin's character - she is one of my favourites (shhh, don't tell the others) and I like seeing her mindset.

Finally Ianto comes back into the picture, parachuted in from nowhere almost; with his obviously enhanced enmeshment with the ship will he be able to ferret out more than any other investigator and will he be believed even if he does? That is if he lasts long enough to make a difference; putting him in a Red Shirt is . . . ominous.

I was a bit worried about Ianto reapparing so suddenly and I hope that it wasn't too jarring. I decided early on that I didn't want to get into the whole holographic testing / emmitter creation, and decided instead to mention it early on and then have it all go on in the background. Of course due to the hiatus this seems to be even longer ago!!

As to the Red Shirt - definitely not intentional! I wanted him to be in a DS9 Dominion-war era uniform and red was the first one I saw.

His enmeshment with the ship may well help him to uncover the truth behind Kalara's situation, but I have a few more surprises up my sleeve before then...

A chilling reference to Sarine there; he is hardly clear headed about anything right now. At the very moment Prin is thinking of her Captain there may no longer be a Captain Sarine — whether assassinated or assimilated. This is turning out to be a tale of shadows in more ways than one— Kalara and Ianto shadow Sarine and Prin; two Captains and two Execs. The dynamics between the matched pairs are powerful enough but when you add to the mix all the permutations that can be run between the foursome it is a veritable shadow dance.

No, Sarine is not the most clear headed of individuals. He has improved since we first saw him, mellowed slightly, but he is still carrying around a hell of a lot of baggage. This first arc of the Restoration story (yes these three volumes are only the first arc!! ) is really his story as he tries to resolve all of these issues as best he can.

Of course he may not be given that time considering what may or may not have happened about Onyx Station.

I love your comment about the shadows - I had always intended this foursome to play off of one another, and I am so glad that you have drawn that out!

Oh and then you throw everyone into the build up to a minor war where nothing at all is clear. Now we want to know who was the escapee, who the pursuers, what is happening to Onyx, what is happening to the Away Team and, naturally, none of the questions from the last Chapter and not all of those from the last arc are answered yet. To cap it off — is the Behemoth referring to the attack on Sarine or has something else happened? What could send the station into spasm; Sarine being plugged into the circuits, the Kruin being extinguished or both! Pure evil authorship.

Evil authorship!!!! Grrrr!! Love it.

Yes, things are definitely building up to a tense situation. All out war? Maybe. Civil war? Probably. What that will mean for the crew of Redemption remains to be seen.

I promise that there will be answers to all of these questions. One more chapter or two, and we will clear up exactly what has happened aboard Onyx. As to the other questions posed during these three volumes... Some will be answered. Some won't. I promise it will be a wild ride, though!

Thanks again for the kind words, in-depth comments and well thought out response. Really makes writing this story and these characters I love even more worthwhile.

I really like Ianto. Really, really a lot. And I like Prin, too. I'm glad she's listening to her gut here, but trying to stay logical at the same time. I think she'd make an excellent starship captain ... and from the looks of things, she's going to have to be exactly that in a minute here.

I don't know if the murder was Sarine or not, but he's not on board, he's been shot, and all hell just broke loose. Time for Prin to step up. Will she call on Kalara? Remembering the first chapter of this volume, I really can't wait to find out what's about to happen.

Another great chapter, Joel! More! More!

Kes

These two characters are definitely amongst my favourites as well. Prin would be a kick-ass captain, and she may have to be in the next few chapters as Redemption handles the fall out from whatever the hell has happened onboard the station. Having Ianto at her back is an added bonus, as he has many hundreds of years experience. Whether she will trust him enough or whether she will turn to someone else (Kalara? ) is going to have a major effect on how this progresses.

I'm impressed with Prin - despite her dislike for Kalara, she's professional enough to keep digging when something strikes her as odd. Glad that Ianto is back (so to speak) and able to shed some insight and balance into the investigation.

Events continue to unfold at a dizzying pace. It would seem that Prin's investigation may have to be put on hold as she deals with more pressing matters.

I'm impressed with Prin - despite her dislike for Kalara, she's professional enough to keep digging when something strikes her as odd. Glad that Ianto is back (so to speak) and able to shed some insight and balance into the investigation.

Events continue to unfold at a dizzying pace. It would seem that Prin's investigation may have to be put on hold as she deals with more pressing matters.

Great stuff!

TLR

Prin is definitely one of the more grounded characters. I consider her to be more of a throwback to the old Federation - a woman of ideals, with a strong character, who has the ability to be as good as a Picard, or a Janeway. A new generation of captain for this new generation of the Federation.

Ianto is definitely going to be a balance on the investigation. Whether he will be able to find anything is another question entirely.

Glad you enjoyed this! We'll see in the next few chapters how long Prin is going to have to leave things on hold.

Prin has a pragmatic sense and isn't so easily swayed by emotion as Ba'el allows himself to be. Kudos to her for seeing something wrong within Kalara's alleged actions, and for moving to speak with someone acting as the Klingon's advocate.

And now, things are suddenly, inexplicably worse... and Prin must decide to fight, flee, or surrender, without knowing which action might lead to a more successful conclusion to this vital mission.

Prin has a pragmatic sense and isn't so easily swayed by emotion as Ba'el allows himself to be. Kudos to her for seeing something wrong within Kalara's alleged actions, and for moving to speak with someone acting as the Klingon's advocate.

And now, things are suddenly, inexplicably worse... and Prin must decide to fight, flee, or surrender, without knowing which action might lead to a more successful conclusion to this vital mission.

And they say the captain's job is tough!

I wanted Prin to act as a balance on Ba'el - her pragmatic, well-thought out command style acts as a counterweight to his more emotional outlook. That is why they were such a good team during the Resistance until they had their falling out.

Well, at the moment Prin does have the captain's job. She's not able to contact Ba'el and is thus in full control of the ship. Of course, she has the added complication of making a decision that would also be in accordance with his wishes.

He knew from the darkness of his quarters that it was still night. It wasn’t the darkness that had awakened him, though, but rather a distinct sense that something was wrong. He reached out for his walking cane, feeling slightly reassured at the familiar heft of it in his hand. He’d learned over his years in the Resistance that it always a good idea to have a weapon to hand.

His sense of unease didn’t fade. In fact, it increased. It was a sensation with which he had a lot of experience. He’d felt it when meeting with prospective clients about to try and pull a fast one or later - when he joined the Resistance – on assignment when his cover had been blown. His father had called it following his lobes.

Throwing off the covers, Qwert slid out of bed, one hand wrapped around the reinforced havawood of his cane. Time to follow my lobes, then.

He reached over and grabbed his uniform, pulling it on. The temperature in his quarters had dropped, he was sure of it. Could that be what he had sensed, what had set his lobes atingling?

Standing up, he tapped the comm badge on his jacket breast.

“Qwert to Redemption.”

Nothing. His frown deepened. He tapped it again.

“Qwert to Sarine.”

Still nothing. He cursed quietly. It looked like his sense of unease had been justified after all. He needed to find out what was going on.

He crossed to the quarter’s door and crouched down just outside the sensor radius, trying to prepare himself for what he might find outside. What he wouldn’t give for a phaser, but the Laurentii had been insistent that all of the diplomatic corps give up their weapons upon arrival. Not even the security officers had been allowed to keep theirs. Like showing your opponent a bad hand in tongo.

Well, no use crying over the latinum once it’s spent. Taking a firmer grip on his cane, he crept forward. The door irised open. He still couldn’t get used to the way things worked on the Laurentii station – he felt a shiver run down his spine at the moist sound of the orifice unclenching. The shiver of disgust turned into one of fear as he saw the two shadows waiting on the other side of the door. The little light from the corridor reflected off the eyestrips of two Laurentii.

He caught sight of the business ends of some kind of weapons pointing at him. Both tracked towards him the moment the door finished opening.

Qwert exploded up out from his crouch. Neither Laurentii reacted fast enough, obviously expecting to face a feeble old Ferengi trader. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had underestimated him. Though it would probably be their last.

He slammed the latinum pressed head of the Nagus into the first Laurentii’s stomach. Using his own body as leverage, he twisted his arms, slamming the soldier against the doorjamb. He struck, his head colliding against the hard space station wall and tumbled to the floor.

Qwert was already spinning to face the other man. Spinning the cane, he thrust the hard point of the wood into one of the soldier’s breathing flaps.

The Laurentii roared, spinning away. He retched, green and red vomit gushing to the floor. Qwert stepped into his personal space, striking the Laurentii’s fingers with his cane. The soldier screeched, dropping his claw-like weapon.

Dropping to a crouch, Qwert scooped up the weapon, turned it on the Laurentii and fired. Moments later, he fired again, taking down the second man.

It had taken all of a few moments. In the aftermath, Qwert just stood there, taking a few deep breaths to calm his beating heart. Even after his years in the Resistance, he still couldn’t get used to hand to hand combat.

Quite a flaw for a former assassin. He grunted. I was always better with a phase-rifle and a clean escape route.

He tried to make some kind of sense of what had just happened. Why had the Laurentii attacked him? What was happening onboard this station?

Only one way to find out. Stepping over the still smoking body of the first soldier and into the corridor, his foot came to rest in a pool of noxious red and green liquid. He jumped forward, disgusted, wiping his bare foot on the wall. It took him a few moments to realise that the vomit shouldn’t have been there.

He had seen Onyx Station swallow everything and anything, including his own excrements. Why hadn’t it swallowed this? What had happened while he was asleep?

Suddenly, light played over the wall off to the side. Qwert spun round, bringing the Laurentii weapon to bear. He hesitated a moment before firing, though, just long enough to recognise the shadow at the end of the corridor as Lieutenant Garabaldi, the hu-mon woman heading up the diplomatic security detail. She held her hands up in a conciliatory gesture, a phaser in one hand and a torch strapped to her other arm.

“It’s me, Admiral.”

Qwert relaxed, letting out an explosive breath as he allowed his weapon hand to drop slightly.

“Report, lieutenant.”

She started towards him, the light bobbing on the dark walls. “Unknown, admiral. Two Laurentii attacked me in my quarters. I managed to get to my phaser before they were able to kill me with this.” She brandished a sharp, nasty looking knife she held in her torch wielding hand. “I took them both out.”

“Did they give any indication what they wanted?”

Garabaldi had reached him by now and he saw her eyes drop to the two Laurentii corpses. Her eyes widened and she glanced at him, reassessing him.

“Lieutenant?” he said, bringing her back to the subject at hand. She shook her head.

“Yes, admiral. Sorry, admiral. No, they gave no indication.” Not that she would have given them much time to explain. Qwert shook his head. “Something has gone very wrong here, lieutenant. Where are the rest of your team?”

Her face grew dark. “Dead, sir. I found their bodies in their rooms. They had gotten to them before they came for me.”

Qwert felt a dark chasm opening beneath his feet. The blood that had been shed that night – on both sides - would make any kind of agreement between the Hegemony and the Federation difficult, if not impossible. He pushed the thought away. For now, he had no idea what was going on. The most important thing was to find the others and survive this night. They could deal with the fall out later.

“Alright, lieutenant. We can’t stay here. Eventually, someone is going to come looking for these assassins and I’m assuming they’ll bring reinforcements. We need to find the other members of the party. The ambassador. Mister Groves.” If they’re still alive. No, don’t even think it. He dreaded to think what might happen if the Laurentii had killed a Federation ambassador and the President’s deputy chief of staff.

“Aye, sir.” She hesitated. “Sir, what if…”

He put a hand on her arm. “Not now, lieutenant. Not now.”

She closed her mouth and he saw a professional veneer veil her thoughts and feelings. She stood a bit straighter. “Of course, sir. I should take point.”

“By all means.”

Now that she had something to do, Garabaldi seemed much more composed. She stepped past him, bringing her torch up and playing it over the walls. For the first time, Qwert saw them clearly and he realised that they were shifting, almost imperceptibly. Tiny waves rippling the surface. It seemed to be coming from the direction they were headed.

As he followed the security chief down the corridor, Qwert wondered what the hell had happened. And whether any of them would survive the night.

Bridge
USS Redemption

Prin stared at the oncoming Behemoths, trying to figure out what to do. Barani’s words echoed in her ears. A murder? Who had been killed? One of the Laurentii? Or one of theirs? She shook her head. How did this happen? More importantly, what was she going to do about it? If she stood down, she had no idea what the Laurentii might do to her ship or her crew. It went against everything she had been taught and every instinct she had gained in the Resistance. If she didn’t, though, it might set off a battle that could drag the Federation into the middle of another war.

“Commander?” Barani’s voice dragged her out of her reverie. “What do we do?”

I have no choice. Prophets forgive me, I have no choice. “Raise shields,” she ordered, surprising herself by the firm tone of her voice. “Engage Tactical Projection System and bring weapons on line.”

The walls of the bridge shimmered around her as her crew moved to battle stations. Vanishing, the bridge was replaced by the now familiar holographic representation of the space around them. Prin had worked with the TPS for long enough not to feel the nausea and discomfort that often afflicted those with less experience. Standing on nothing took some getting used to.

The station hung in space before them, surrounded by the fleet of Behemoths. Prin had no need to check the readouts on her headset – L’wynd had informed the senior staff during the daily briefing the day before that there were over ninety of the giant ships out there. Thank the Prophet for small mercies. Only five of them had broken off to intercept them.

They just want to frighten us, she told herself. They won’t risk destroying everything that we have-

A pulse of red fire lanced from the closest Behemoth. Prin barely had time to register its visual existence before the blast struck Redemption, shaking the deck beneath her feet.

“Shields holding,” L’wynd reported from Tactical. “Down 5%”

5%? Damn! She remembered the tactical officer’s words from the day before – they knew next to nothing about the Behemoth ships. The sensors had been unable to pierce the various shields and interference fields to get a reading on weapons, defence systems, anything. We’re fighting blind.

“Fire a warning shot.” I don’t want to set off a war if we can avoid it. This has to be a misunderstanding. It has to be. “And keep trying to raise the station. I want to know what by the Prophets is going on over there.”

L’wynd reacted instantly. A torpedo rippled across space, passing over the nearest Behemoth’s forward hull. Hopefully that will have gotten their attention.

It did.

“Incoming.”

The ship shook again as two of the Behemoths fired their pulse weapons. Prin barely kept her feet, dancing across the invisible deck with the grace of a gymnast. “Report!”

“Shields down 30%.”

Barani turned to her from Ops. “Commander, perhaps we should consider returning fire.”

Prin gritted her teeth. “Not yet.”

The other woman looked as though she were going to protest, but thought better of it, returning to her screens. Moments later, though, red fire burst from beneath their feet, striking a daunting blow against the largest Behemoth. The living ship shook, greyish green flesh ripped from the creature’s hide.

“I ordered you to hold fire,” Prin shouted, turning on the tactical officer.

Prin turned back to see Barani staring straight down. She followed her gaze in time to see two Behemoths rising from below. A moment after she saw them, one of them fired again. The line of fire scoured a hit on the furthest Behemoth, tearing at the creature’s trailing wing.

What the hell is –

“We’re being hailed.”

“On screen,” Prin ordered.

A part of the holographic display shimmered, then coalesced into the three dimensional bust of a Laurentii. Blue skin reflected the light of multiple energy blasts as the Behemoths met in space in front of Redemption. His yellow eye strip flickered, only a tad less disconcerting than it had been when Prin first saw one of the aliens.

“This is varec Kh’ylat aboard Oerdonna,” the head barked. “If you move in behind us, we have orders to protect you.”

Protect us? Still, she wasn’t going to reject a gift from the Prophets. “My name is Commander Prin Ly’et. I am in command of Redemption in the absence of Captain Sarine. Thank you for your assistance, varec. We’re moving into position now.”

She looked off to the side, catching Astrid Williams’ eye and nodding. The helm officer manipulated her holo controls, sending the ship down and in behind the defending Behemoths. Prin looked all around and saw that more and more of the living ships were moving around them, joining the screen. Of course, a similar number of Behemoths were joining the attackers. This is about to turn into a war zone.

Prin turned her attention back to the varec. “You mentioned orders varec? Can I take that to mean you are in touch with the station?”

The varec’s eye strip turned a darker yellow, bordering on the brown. “We were, just long enough for havac Lkim to give us our orders. Since then, nothing.”

Prin was reluctant to ask the next question, but she knew she had no choice. “And if I may ask varec – why are they not following those orders?” She indicated the attacking Behemoths, many of which had now engaged the protective screen of ships.

She allowed herself to be distracted for a moment by the sight of two of the living ships attacking one another not with lasers and shields but with their heavy tails.

She blinked and returned her attention to the varec. “What is happening here?”

“Our forces are split, Prinly’et.” He said her name as one word. “And those opposing us have been given different orders.”

She felt a chill run down her spine. “And what orders would those be?”

“To destroy you, Prinly’et. And to kill all the Federationers onboard that station.”